For better or worse

Years ago, when I lived on Shaw Island, my landlord (who at the time was living on an island off the coast of Boston) emailed me to say his beautiful Irish Setter was dying of kidney disease.

His descriptions of walking the beach with the increasingly feeble setter were heart-breaking, and he was obviously distraught. So the following Sunday, at the Shaw Community Church Service, when the subject of prayer requests arose I asked for prayers for my landlord and his dying dog.

In those days the community service was run on a rotation basis. About 20 families attended regularly, and since almost everyone who attended came from a different denominational background our worship was quite varied.

Having come from many years of "doing church" as an Episcopalian, I confess I was a bit put off at first by the Shaw services: like many Episcopalians (they/we aren't called the frozen chosen for nothing!) I was a liturgy snob, and it took a while for me to realize the extraordinary nature of the faith that was modeled in that community center every Sunday.

Over time certain specific gifts emerged -- as will often happen in religious communities -- and no matter who was running the service, Melba would play the organ and Marlyn would handle the intercessory prayers. I thought little of it at first -- older women are a staple of religious communities everywhere -- but on this particular Sunday I realized that these were not just any older church women.

Because Marlyn could pray extemporaneously better than any priest or pastor I've ever heard anywhere. Her prayers on behalf of my landlord and his dog were thoughtful, brief, and breathtakingly eloquent; prayers lifted up on behalf of every animal that has ever warmed a human heart, and on behalf of every human heart that's ever suffered at the loss of the pure unconditional love that pets so often provide.

My own heart was opened that Sunday morning to the beauty of those simple prayers, and after that day I set aside my snobbery and learned to revel in the richness of the love that filled that room.

And I mention this today because the cat in this picture, our dear Alex -- one of those rare cats-in-a-dog-suit, a total people snuggler who walks with us and our dog every night, who comes when he is called, loves strangers, and distributes licks and hugs with abandon -- spent most of the day in our vet's office getting some very messy wounds cleaned and stitched.

We're not quite sure what happened, if he was swiped with a huge claw or bitten by a rather large mouth, but he is now safely home, wearing one of those ridiculous collars and missing most of the hair on his back. The two largest of the lacerations have been stitched shut, and two ugly off-white drains project from his back. And all that lovely thick soft rabbity fur is gone; sigh.

The good news is that he is doing well, though quite loopy from his pain meds. The bad news is that I need to give him pain meds and antibiotics twice a day and put hot compresses on his wound. The first hot compress bothered him so much he managed to yank off his collar, so this is clearly even less fun for him than it is for me.

But that's not all. One of our other cats (we have three) ended up in the emergency room with an asthma attack this weekend. She gets eye drops twice a day, 2 antibiotics twice a day, and allergy meds once a day. Bringing the total number of cat med administration activities to 13.

And finally our dog, who is diabetic, has developed skin allergies and managed to chew a hole in his thigh. So he, too, is wearing a collar now; he too gets antibiotics twice a day and allergy meds once a day. And he also gets insulin twice a day. Bringing the grand total of animal meds to 18.

Oh, you say, would you like some cheese and crackers with that whine?

Oh, probably. But it's all part of the package. Animals, like children and husbands, definitely come with a "for better or worse" deal. This may be one of those times when the worse is outweighing the better, but I'm not ready to give up, not yet, anyway.

Like the Shaw Church, this isn't exactly what I thought I was signing up for. But there's a lot of love flying around in spite of the change in plans. There are probably lessons here I need to learn. And I sure am grateful to my family for helping me cope!